


Sprint with the Stars

by WolfsQuill



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I'm Bad At Tagging, Non-Canon Relationship, WindClan (Warriors)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 15:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12751281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfsQuill/pseuds/WolfsQuill
Summary: When Rusty winds up in WindClan rather than ThunderClan, StarClan learns that destiny has a funny way of unfolding. The kittypet-turned-warrior has a long journey awaiting him, but with the entirety of StarClan stalking by his side.





	1. Intertwined

**Author's Note:**

> This story veers sharply away from the canon storyline. Obviously, canon events will still happen, but this story is very different. I am planning to take it all the way to the battle with the Dark Forest, so sit back and get ready to read. I also apologize if some things about WindClan are not perfectly accurate. Also, there are so many cats and so much history in this series that I had to draw a line somewhere. I’m positive that things won’t match up exactly. We know more about ThunderClan than any other clan, so I had to invent some cats to flesh out the story. Please feel free to correct me if I missed something major. I will post the WindClan roster at the bottom of the chapters whenever it is updated. Also, I’m slowing down how quickly cats become warriors a bit, so all the clans match a bit more evenly.

The half-moon hung low in the cloudless sky as its many small children twinkled against the blackness of the sky. A chilled wind swept through the air, chasing away the hint of warmth promised by the arriving season of newleaf. Far below the endless sky, flitting across the ground as nothing more than dark shapes to those passing by, were five cats. They walked side by side and chatted quietly between themselves. Behind them stretched a wide twoleg field and- beyond even that- a massive, dark hole that had been cut into the earth: Mothermouth.

These five were the medicine cats of the four clans that lived in the forest, and they were on their return trip home after communing with their warrior ancestors.

“It will be good to get home.” A mottled brown cat broke the long silence when he spied the hills that signaled the beginning of WindClan’s territory.

A patchy grey-and-white tom, smaller than his companions, and identifiable by his crusted nose purred an agreement and paused momentarily to stretch out his limbs. “I can’t wait to rest my paws.”

An older grey she-cat, littered with scars and possessing a pair of sharp yellow eyes, turned her head to narrow her eyes at the cat. “I hope you don’t think you can sleep all day, Runningnose.” She snapped at the tom.

Runningnose flinched at his mentor’s infamously sharp tongue and quickly shook his head. “Of course not, Yellowfang.”

A beautiful dappled tortoiseshell to the pair’s left smiled in amusement. ShadowClan’s medicine cat was as stubborn and sharp-edged as usual. Rather than comment on the banter, she glanced at the brown cat who had spoken before. “A chance to rest before inspecting the stores would be most welcome,” she agreed.

A brown tom with a short tail on the far right of the group chuckled at her words. “As diligent as ever, Spottedleaf. I’ve never seen a medicine cat so focused on picking the forest clean.”

The mottled tom who had spoken first flicked his tail and retorted lightly, “Perhaps if you were half as diligent, Barkface, you wouldn’t be scouring the moor at the last moment.”

Barkface bristled at the comment and spat angrily at the mottled tom just before Spottedleaf stepped between the two.

“Mudclaw,” she reprimanded softly. Spottedleaf said no more aloud, but her eyes carried a clear message. The RiverClan cat twitched his ears and looked away silently, but with a hint of guilt. Last leafbare had been hard for WindClan. Greencough had latched onto the camp, but catnip was difficult to find in the swift clan’s territory. Only the guidance of StarClan had lead the unprepared Barkface to a clump large enough to save his clan.

Yellowfang simply snorted and continued forward, while Runningnose cast a sympathetic look towards Barkface. The WindClan medicine cat nodded slightly and let his fur lie flat; the tense moment over.

Silence fell over the four cats once more as they crossed the scent marker into WindClan territory and began to walk the wide uplands of the forest. The sky lightened rapidly as they traveled and soon the morning had stolen away the quiet darkness of the night. There was a moment of surprise when Barkface did not split off towards the WindClan camp, but instead followed the others to the large oaks that surrounded the only place Clan cats met in peace: Fourtrees.

When they reached the hollow, the cats paused and turned to look at one another; this time with unease.

“StarClan brings warnings,” Barkface murmured. His voice was grave and his expression tired as he gazed up at the blue sky, as though he could see past it to the spirits of his ancestors that resided in silverpelt.

At his words, the other medicine cats shifted and exchanged tense glances. The times ahead would be difficult for all the clans.

Spottedleaf dipped her head in acknowledgment, but then straightened and answered in a soft voice, “Our ancestors also bring us hope.”

Yellowfang looked across the hollow of Fourtrees with her wise gaze, yellow eyes gleaming as though she could see all the forest in that moment, and rasped, “The clans must be ready. The future brings change.”

In silence, Barkface dipped his head and turned to head back through WindClan territory. A heavy weight hung over his head as he remembered the prophecy StarClan had sent to him only a few sunrises ago.

_Fire will save the Clan._


	2. Into the Wild

Rusty blinked open his eyes to the sound of dry food rattling into his bowl. The orange tabby yawned widely and rested his chin on the side of the comfortable basket his was lying in. One of his housefolk- the female, from what he could tell- reached down to stroke him as he watched her, and Rusty loosed a loud purr in response. A moment later, she left the kitchen where his bed lay near his bowls and he stretched limberly before clambering reluctantly out of his bed.

He wanted to simply curl up and fall back into his dreams, but hunger clawed at his belly and the nearby food bowl awaited him. Rusty swallowed a few mouthfuls of the dry food and then washed down the taste with the stagnant water in the other bowl. As he pushed his way through his cat flap, Rusty felt the pinch of his collar and sighed as a fragment of his dream returned to him.

He had been slipping through the undergrowth of a forest as he hunted down a mouse for his meal. He had felt wild and free; his blood coursing through his veins as his young body carried him forward. The dreams came and went with every full moon. Sometimes he was stalking silently in the darkest of shadows as a fearsome hunter of the night, and sometimes he was battling as an indomitable warrior who feared not even a rushing river. Other times he was the noble warrior of the forest, senses alert as he tracked his prey and guarded his territory. His favorite, however, were the dreams of the endless hills. Rusty would streak over the open landscape, paws sending him soaring with every pace, and there was nothing in his way of his freedom. His blood would pound, muscles stretching and contracting, wind whipping through his fur, and overhead would be the dazzling night sky.

Rusty flicked his tail uncertainly as he hopped up onto the fence- the border of his garden. On the other paw, the joy he felt from hunting the mouse in the untamed forest was tantalizing. He was the alert predator: young, powerful, and ready to strike at any moment.

A soft call from behind made him turn to see his housefolk standing in the open doorway. He blinked slowly at them, knowing that if he went now he would be carried to a soft, warm bed and treated with naught but affection. Tonight, however, Rusty stayed where he was and turned his green gaze back to the forest in front of his nose.

It was raining softly. He could feel the weighted drops on his pelt, despite his warm and dry skin. Yet, he was not eager to escape the potentially uncomfortable wetness. The sky above his head still glimmered with patches of stars and faint moonlight, and he found the forest beckoning to him.

He hesitated for a moment, before the wisps of his dream tempted him and he stood to brace himself on the posts of the fence. In a single, balanced leap Rusty landed on the forest floor below, and outside the safety of his fence. He tensed as the bell on his collar rang out treacherously, but relaxed when not even a leaf stirred in the dark forest.

“Where are you off to, Rusty?”

The orange tabby blinked at the familiar voice and looked up to see a black-and-white cat balancing ungracefully on the fence. “Hello, Smudge.” He greeted his friend.

The young housecat stared back with wide amber eyes. “You’re not going to go into the woods, are you?”

Rusty shifted uneasily at the expression on his friend’s face. “Just for a look.”

Smudge grimaced. “You wouldn’t get me in there. It’s dangerous! Henry says he went into the woods once.” He paused to gesture in the direction of the garden where Henry lived.

Rusty snorted in disbelief. “That fat old tabby never went into the woods! He’s hardly been beyond his own garden since his trip to the vet. All he wants to do is eat and sleep,” he retorted dismissively.

“No, really. He caught a robin in there!” Smudge insisted.

“Well, if he did, then it was before the vet.” Rusty allowed. “Now he _complains_ about the birds because they disturb his dozing.”

Smudge shook his head. “Well, anyway, Henry told me there are all sorts of dangerous animals out there. Huge wildcats who eat live rabbits for breakfast and sharpen their claws on old bones!”

The story was obviously meant to be deterring, but Rusty could still feel the longing pull of the forest. He pushed his nervousness away and meowed, “I’m only going for a look around. I won’t stay long.”

Smudge shrugged, as though he hadn’t expected to really influence Rusty’s decision one way or the other anyway, and replied, “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Then he turned and dropped back down into his own garden.

Rusty sat and gave his chest a few uncertain licks. He wondered how much of Smudge’s gossip was true. It was plausible that there were wild cats out here- there were certainly enough strays he had smelled when his housefolk brought him places- but he was doubtful that the stories hadn’t been exaggerated.

_I’m only looking around_ , Rusty reminded himself firmly. _I can come straight home if something happens._

Shaking off the lingering fear, Rusty padded curiously into the trees. If he focused, he could hear the small sounds of forest life, but nothing concrete. He found himself lost in his thoughts as he walked among the trees. His dreams were rolling in the back of his mind and he found his paws flexing as he lunged after his helpless prey, and his tail waving as he relived the feeling of sprinting over open ground.

It was in the midst of this unwary daydreaming that he registered a branch snapping just before a titanic force cannonballed into his side. In a moment, the forest went from mysterious and peaceful to treacherous and dangerous. Panting in terror and pain, Rusty thrashed blindly, bell jingling wildly on his collar, and lashed out with his claws. He heard a cat hiss, but the pressure did not let up and a frightened Rusty looked up into the burning amber eyes of the massive tabby cat he was pinned under. A thick scar crossed the bridge of his nose and his pelt bore the markings of a hard life. The world around him slowed as he stared up at his attacker, as if the moment was attempting to burn itself into his mind. Then, the tabby flexed his thorn-sharp claws and time snapped back to pace. With a prickle of fear, Rusty realized that this was one of the forest cats Smudge had spoken of.

And, if the look in his eyes was anything to go off of, this strange cat was going to kill him.

“You’re trespassing in ThunderClan territory.” The cat hissed dangerously.

Rusty gulped and struggled as he felt the dark tabby’s claws dig deeper into his sides. Pain lanced across him as the cat’s claws pierced his shoulder.

From the side came another voice, this one arrogant and fierce. “You should learn to stay out of the forest, _kittypet_.” The pale brown tabby spat the unfamiliar word like a curse.

As another cat approached, Rusty realized with a growing sense of dread that he was surrounded. The third cat was a dark grey tabby with bold black stripes. “We’re going to teach you that lesson,” he hissed menacingly.

Heart pounding in his chest, Rusty froze and mewed desperately, “Wait- I’m sorry! I’ll leave now!”

“Yes,” the tabby hissed, pressing him even harder into the ground. Rusty gasped for breath under the cat’s weight. “And I’ll leave you with a reminder to never come back.”

He raised a paw, terrifyingly long claws extended, to strike, but his grip loosened on one side as he did so. To most untrained cats this would not have made much of a difference, but Rusty was only frozen with fear and- as a chance for escape screamed at his instincts- adrenaline kicked into high gear. With a desperate yowl, Rusty twisted in the loose grip and kicked _hard_ at the soft underbelly of his attacker. The cat reared back in pain and surprise before dropping to his paws with an infuriated hiss.

Rusty didn’t stick around to see what the tabby’s two stunned companions would do. In an instant he was up on his paws and racing away through the undergrowth. He knew he was running blind. He had no idea which direction his home was in and the forest’s shadows each seemed to shelter another amber-eyed tabby.

Thorns tore at his fur, roots tripped up his paws, and the thick undergrowth pushed at him. Behind him he could hear the heavy thuds of the three cats chasing him- much faster than he seemed to be able to get away. As fear clawed at his spine, the forest spun away into only the desperation of the chase.

Dodge around that patch of nettles, swerve to avoid a tree, trip over a root, push through the brambles, clamber- _too slow, too slow!_ \- over the fallen tree in his path. All the while, he could hear his pursuers easily navigating behind him. Rusty pushed himself faster, faster, faster until his heart felt like it would burst and his lungs wouldn’t offer him enough air. He pelted across the uneven grass with his only thought being: _please, please, please don’t let them catch me!_

He didn’t know who he was praying to, or why he was suddenly praying, but a whiff of the scent of a strange cat crossed his nose and Rusty felt energy flow into his legs. Suddenly, each stride became easier. Each paw gripped and pushed off the earth with all the power in his young body. His muscles seemed to echo with memory he didn’t possess. No longer was it a forest of trees blurring past him, but the endless hills from his dreams.

For a moment, he though he heard a voice, firm and wise, whisper, “Run, young warrior.”

Then the trees came to an end and Rusty was nearing the edge of a hollow where four great trees stood. The sight caught him off-guard and Rusty slowed, eyes wide with awe.

Four oaks towered around the hollow, sheltering it with their ancient branches. Starlight and moonlight streamed down to the ground, bathing it silver. A massive stone stood upright on the far side, proud and timeless.

It was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

“Look out!”

Pawsteps thudded behind him and Rusty realized too late that he’d stopped running. Claws met his back and he screeched in agony. The claws only dug in harder and the weight of the cat forced him to the ground.

A voice hissed furiously into his ear, “Shut up, kittypet! You asked for this!”

In a moment, Rusty realized that it was the pale tabby pinning him to the ground. His claws were no less dangerous, but his weight was far lighter. Without the suffocating weight of the amber-eyed cat behind the ferocious attack, he had a chance to get free of the painful grip. Immediately, Rusty squirmed beneath his foe, hissing and spitting, and lashed out with his claws. The tom on his back spat and the fighting cats dissolved into a squalling ball of fur.

As Rusty attempted to twist, he found his air supply abruptly cut off. There was pressure around his throat- building, building, building- and he struggled against the force, pulling as he gasped soundlessly for air his lungs could not receive.

With an abrupt _snap_ Rusty tumbled forward over the edge of the hollow; all the while greedily sucking in air. When he hit the ground, he struggled quickly to his paws and tore across the hollow and up the opposite wall- running with blind desperation to get away- and slammed right into a mass of black fur. The scent identified the object he’d run in to as a tom and- belatedly in some rational corner of his mind- Rusty realized that this must have been the cat that had called out to him. Dazed, he also noted- with some disbelief- that he could feel the wind pushing at his neck fur. His collar had snapped off. It was… wonderfully freeing.

The young orange tabby crouched, panting in the dirt, too tired to move, but terrified that this cat would attack him too. He felt his fur fluff up automatically even as his instincts screamed for him to move. The other three cats were still behind him.

However, his fears were unfounded as the black cat did naught but glance at him before looking away- at the cats who had been chasing Rusty a moment ago. The three of them were pacing on the other side of the hollow; eyes nothing but furious slits.

“Cross that border and I’ll leave you with another scar, Tigerclaw.” The black cat warned as the tabby began heading for Rusty.

The newly dubbed Tigerclaw paused and spat. Without addressing the black cat, Tigerclaw focused his narrowed gaze on Rusty. The orange tabby felt his fur prickle with fear, but could do little to hide it. “You come to this forest again, kittypet, and I’ll rip you to shreds.”

As quickly as they had come, the three cats left; disappearing into the thick undergrowth of the forest at Tigerclaw’s tail flick.

Nervously, Rusty turned his wide green gaze onto his rescuers. The first was the black tom he had collided with. The other cat watched him with a silent green gaze as Rusty took note of his twisted left paw. To the right of the black cat was a light brown she-cat with streaks of dark brown and black. To the left was a younger, light gray tabby she-cat.

Rusty swallowed as the silence stretched and his fur slowly flattened back to its normal state. He did not rise from his tense crouch even as he tucked his tail to his side nervously. “Th- thank you,” he managed.

The black cat snorted and sat down. “Don’t thank me yet, kittypet.”

As the other two cats remained silent- though wary of them- Rusty slowly felt his curiosity return. “Kittypet?” He repeated, confused. The other three cats had used that term as well, but they had more or less spat it as a curse while this cat used it as a name.

“It means a cat that lives with twolegs,” the young she-cat meowed scornfully. “Don’t you know anything?”

The brindled she-cat shot a chiding look at the younger. “Runningpaw.” She reprimanded sharply. Runningpaw swiftly ducked her head, tail lowered in apology.

The black cat glanced at his companions and then back at Rusty, whose continuing confusion he must have noticed. “Twolegs are the tall, furless ones who live in the strange dens.”

“Oh,” Rusty mewed, relaxing slightly as the conversation carried on normally. “You mean housefolk.”

The brown she-cat swept her tail impatiently. “This is all well and good, Deadfoot, but what are we going to do with him?” She gestured her head at Rusty and spoke as though he was a kit too young to understand. Rusty bristled at the slight, but held his tongue. He didn’t want to anger these cats. Even if they were friendly for the moment, he could sense the same wildness in them that he had sensed in the three cats who had attacked him. Perhaps they lacked the same antagonistic ferocity, but certainly not the quiet strength.

Deadfoot flicked an ear at her, acknowledging her comment, but he did not remove his intense stare from Rusty. “Sit up.” He ordered and, after a moment, Rusty slowly complied. He could feel his shoulder and back ripple with pain as he did so and he suddenly became acutely aware of the blood coating his orange coat. The black tom was silent for a moment more, before he asked, “What’s your name, kittypet?”

“Rusty,” he answered quickly. He could feel his wounds aching and he knew that, if he tried to flee again, he would not be able to outrun these lean cats. It would be better to stay in their good graces, for the moment. Hopefully they would leave him alone soon enough and he wound be able to sneak back home.

With a flash of unease, Rusty remembered Tigerclaw’s threat. Would he really be able to avoid that cat?

“Rusty,” Deadfoot repeated, as if hearing the word for the first time. Silence stretched once more before he finally said, “It doesn’t suit you.”

Rusty blinked, confused by the statement, and remained silent.

Ignoring his lack of response, the black tom continued, “You’re fast for a kittypet, Rusty. I’ve seen few cats capable of outrunning three warriors at once. Especially in a territory they’re unfamiliar with.”

The unexpected compliment caught him off-guard and Rusty stared at the cat, mouth hanging open, while Deadfoot watched him with amusement glittering in his eyes. Runningpaw rolled her own and snapped, “Are you just going to stand there and catch flies?”

Startled, Rusty flashed a glance at her and, with embarrassment prickling at his fur, shut his mouth. “Er, thank you.” He mewed aloud and silently added, _I think_.

Then the lighthearted moment dropped as Deadfoot’s gaze became serious. “But coming out here was dangerous. The four clans rule this forest, and we don’t welcome intruders like you.”

Rusty felt his heart speed up at the low tone and he felt himself beginning to crouch once more, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. “I- I’m sorry,” he meowed quickly, “I didn’t know. I promise I’ll leave.” Remembering Tigerclaw’s response to that, he hastily added, “I won’t come back.”

Despite Runningpaw’s and the brown she-cat’s satisfied expressions at his words, Deadfoot carried on as though he hadn’t even heard Rusty. “ThunderClan lives in the territory you just came from.” He nodded across the hollow to the forest. “ShadowClan is in that direction,” he gestured to some dark pines on another edge of the hollow, “and RiverClan is across the gorge. You can’t see it from here.” He added when Rusty turned his head in the direction of Deadfoot’s gaze. “And this,” he finished with a wave of his tail to gesture to the landscape around him, “is WindClan’s territory.”

At his words, Rusty finally focused in on his surroundings and felt his fur stiffen in surprise. _It’s just like my dream!_ He thought, sitting up and looking around in shock. The moor stretched beyond his vision in every direction, dotted with heather and brush, and swept gently by the cool night wind. Overhead, the stars glittered down uninterrupted, like a great shining blanket. The moon had fully emerged with the ceasing of the light rain, and it painted the rolling landscape silver.

“What’s the point of this?” The brown she-cat interrupted Rusty’s awed examination of the land.

Deadfoot turned his face to her at last and murmured, “WindClan could always use swift warriors.”

Runningpaw’s fur bristled in shock and she leapt to her paws. “But he’s a kittypet!”

Deadfoot turned a narrowed gaze onto her and the young she-cat quickly fell silent. “It’s not our decision anyway.” He said firmly, putting an end to any other arguments. He looked back at Rusty. “Whether or not you accept this offer- whether or not it’s even given to you- does not matter at the moment. It is too dangerous for you to cross back through ThunderClan territory right now. Tigerclaw will be waiting for you. You will come with us to camp, where you will stay the night. Then we shall decide what to do with you.”

Then, he rose and began padding away from the four-treed hollow with the other two cats following behind him. Rusty scrambled to his paws as he realized that Deadfoot simply expected Rusty to follow him. Honestly, it wasn’t as though he had much choice. If he was right about Tigerclaw, then there was no way he was getting home tonight.

Besides… had Deadfoot just implied that Rusty could _join WindClan_? Would he even want to? In his dreams, this free life was all he ever wanted, but could he really give up his comfortable life? He was no fool. Life out here was likely difficult. There were no housefolk to fill a bowl for these cats. No houses to shelter from the rain in and no safety of gardens behind fences. His life was a comfortable one… but was it what he really wanted?

A flicker of his dream- flying over an endless hill, his paws like wings- returned to him and he faltered as he caught a faint wisp of the strange cat he had smelled earlier. However, looking around at the open landscape offered no answer and no suggestion of a place where a cat could be hiding.

Dazed, Rusty limped after the three cats; his wounds making each step bear a dull consistent throbbing. His tired paws ached from his long sprint through the forest and all he wanted to do was curl up in his pillowed basket and sleep. His fur still felt sticky from his blood, and his shoulder trembled unsteadily each time he tried to place his weight on it.

Deadfoot glanced over his shoulder at the exhausted orange tabby, his tail dragging through the dust with his head low and eyes clouded with pain, and softened his gaze. “The camp isn’t too far, Rusty. We’ll treat your wound when we get there.”

Rusty could only nod gratefully as he padded slowly after the three WindClan cats, unaware of the future awaiting him.

* * *

“We’re here,” Deadfoot announced for Rusty’s benefit as they came to a stop on the moor. Puzzled, Rusty glanced around over the grassy hills, but spotted nothing that resembled a camp. To his limited knowledge, anyway.

Chuckling at his curiosity, Deadfoot lead the way to the over a small hillock and Rusty glimpsed a gap in the heather stretching across WindClan’s territory. When they grew nearer, Rusty realized there was a sandy hollow in the ground; as if something massive had scooped out a pawful of peat and replaced it with a thick tangle of gorse almost level to the ground on all sides. Rusty stretched his neck trying to get a glimpse into the hollow and a sight of the cats that must be waiting below.

Next to him, the brown she-cat rolled her eyes at his efforts. “Smell,” she instructed shortly. Rusty flinched at the unexpected voice and, embarrassment creeping under his fur, did as she instructed. The scent of many different cats floated up to him- elders, queens, toms, and kits. They all smelled like the three WindClan cats standing by his side. Rusty nodded thoughtfully, but kept his observations to himself when the brown she-cat simply turned away impatiently.

Ignoring the interaction, Deadfoot led them around the lip of the hollow to a place where the ground sloped slightly inward. This led to a tunnel in the gorse and, as Rusty looked down, he realized that the ground here had been worn by many generations of paws. _This must be the entrance to the camp_ , he thought just as they emerged out the other end.

The sight that greeted him was that of many other cats walking to and fro across the clearing. To his right many younger cats rolled across the ground as they played. Without hesitation, Runningpaw took off across the ground and leapt right into the fray. The play-fighting paused for a moment, and then began again with even more eagerness.

“Runningpaw! How was patrol?” Rusty heard a dark gray tabby tom greet her as he pounced on her.

He was distracted from the sight when Deadfoot nodded at the brindled she-cat and she padded away towards the left side of the clearing. A reddish-brown tom lifted his head in greeting when she approached, and the two paused to chat.

Deadfoot cleared his throat to gain Rusty’s attention and began to pad towards a tall, smooth rock on the opposite side of the clearing. As they walked, the other cats in the clearing looked up curiously. They had clearly caught Rusty’s unfamiliar scent. Rusty felt his fur begin to prickle uncomfortably and did his best to keep it flat. He didn’t want to let these cats know how on-edge he was.

“Calm down,” Deadfoot murmured to him as they neared their destination. “No one is going to hurt you.”

Beside the rock lay two cats: one, a black-and-white tom with a very long tail, and the second, a mottled dark brown tom. The black-and-white cat looked up as they approached. “That is Tallstar,” Deadfoot mewed quietly to Rusty. “The leader of WindClan. The cat next to him is Mudclaw, a senior warrior.”

“Ah, Deadfoot,” Tallstar greeted with gleaming amber eyes, “how was your patrol?”

Deadfoot dipped his head respectfully as he approached and Rusty hastened to follow. “The borders are safe, Tallstar.” He looked up and added, “Although we were witness to an interesting scene tonight.”

“I take it that it has to do with your new friend here,” Tallstar mewed with a nod at Rusty. He paused to sniff at the orange tabby. “ThunderClan territory?” He was eyeing the blood coating Rusty’s fur, and the housecat abruptly realized how he must look to the WindClan cats: exhausted, beaten, bloody, and entirely out of place.

“He’s a kittypet!” Mudclaw exclaimed. “What was he doing in ThunderClan territory?”

“Outrunning their cats,” Deadfoot answered in amusement. At Tallstar’s inquisitive flick he continued, “I spotted him running towards Fourtrees with Tigerclaw, Longtail, and, Darkstripe chasing after him. He’s fast for a kittypet. They only caught him when he stopped.”

“You don’t seem like you’ve been in a fight,” Mudclaw said slowly. “You mean that this,” he flicked an ear disbelievingly at Rusty, “ _kittypet_ fought them off.”

Rusty shook his head. “My collar snapped.”

“Longtail pinned him,” Deadfoot elaborated, “but he fought back, so Longtail tried to choke him with his collar. It broke under the strain, and Rusty ran right into me trying to get away.”

“Rusty?” Tallstar repeated and turned his amber gaze onto the orange cat. Rusty nervously glanced away under the tom’s intense stare. He felt as though Tallstar was staring straight through him; examining everything that he was. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Shocked, Rusty snapped his gaze back up to his, only for Tallstar to look back at Deadfoot. “I take it you want him to stay here for the night?”

“Sending him back through ThunderClan territory while Tigerclaw’s still out there would be sending him to his death,” Deadfoot answered mildly, as though discussing the weather. Then, more seriously, “I think Barkface should have a look at him.”

There seemed to be a double meaning to his words, as Tallstar flashed a surprised glance at Rusty that seemed to hold a mysterious weight. “He certainly captured your interest.”

“You should have seen him run,” answered Deadfoot.

Tallstar nodded thoughtfully after a moment and then turned to the tom laying by his side. “Tell the clan we have a guest for the night.”

Mudclaw rose to his paws and dipped his head before turning and padding away to join the crowd of WindClan cats. Rusty watched him go, and then turned his attention back onto the two cats in front of him when he sensed Tallstar watching him.

“Tell me, Rusty, why did you decide to venture into the forest? Very few kittypets dare to set paw here.”

Rusty started at the question and found his reflexive answer to be, “It was interesting.”

“And with more thought?” Tallstar prompted, as if he knew how off-guard the question had caught the orange tabby.

He paused, surprised by the continued questioning, and then did as the black-and-white tom had asked and thought about his response. He had always dreamed of the forest- fighting, hunting, and living in it- but was that really why he had come out here? He’d once dreamt that he’d climbed inside a cabinet in his housefolk’s kitchen, but that didn’t mean he was going to do that. It certainly didn’t have the same pull to it that his dreams of the forest had had.

But… he had always felt an urge to hop over his fence and into the wilderness beyond. His dreams had only been a reminder of that longing. Despite the luxuries of his kittypet life, Rusty had always wanted to experience the world on his own four paws. Hunting for his food, working to survive, feeling truly _alive_. And, with that thought, Rusty realized why he had come here in the first place.

“I’ve always looked over my fence at the woods beyond,” Rusty answered slowly. “I wanted to experience them.”

Tallstar’s eyes gleamed. “Have they disappointed you yet?”

Rusty flicked his tail back and forth as he thought. On one paw, he had leapt into the forest only to be attacked by three strange cats and become exhausted in his attempt to escape them. The air out here was colder than it would be inside his housefolk’s warm nest, he was hungry again, and all he wanted to do was sleep for a moon.

But on the other… the adrenaline he’d felt from flying through the forest, the multitude of scents and sounds that had bombarded him. Even in the midst of his terror, Rusty had never felt quite so alive.

Straightening his spine despite his twinging wounds, Rusty met Tallstar’s amber gaze evenly and mewed firmly, “No.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “You’re an interesting kittypet, Rusty.” Tallstar purred. Then, after swapping a glance with Deadfoot, “You seem interested in a life in the forest. Perhaps you would like to experience it yourself. Would you like to join WindClan?”

Rusty stared at the WindClan leader, so surprised by the offer that he found himself unable to speak.

“This life may prove too harsh for you, however,” Deadfoot warned. “You are used to the luxuries of a kittypet’s life.”

Rusty bristled at the black tom’s words. “Why offer me the chance then?”

“It is untrained,” Tallstar answered, “but I can sense a warrior’s spirit in you. StarClan offered you your freedom when your collar snapped. Will you accept their offer?”

Rusty blinked. “StarClan?”

“Our warrior ancestors reside in Silverpelt,” Deadfoot explained, nodding up at the darkening sky. “Each star represents one of them. They watch over us from above, guiding us and ruling over the forest.”

The orange tabby glanced up at the glimmering stars with a sense of awe and then nodded his understanding.

“Tallstar does not make this offer lightly,” Deadfoot warned. “If you wish to join WindClan, you must leave your old life behind. You will live with us as a warrior, or go back to your twolegs and never return. You cannot live with a paw in both worlds.”

Rusty shivered as he felt a cool wind rustling at his fur. He was torn between excitement and apprehension. On one paw, there was a new future just in front of his nose- one full of endless possibilities. On the other, he had a nice life with his housefolk. Food, warmth, and shelter- everything he needed. But was it everything he wanted?

“Do you realize the price you will pay for your comfortable life?” Tallstar asked as Rusty thought. Rusty blinked in confusion at the WindClan leader, who elaborated, “I can tell you are still a tom. Your twolegs have not yet taken you to the cutter. I suspect you would not have been so keen to venture into the forest then!”

Rusty was puzzled for a moment, until he remembered Henry. The old tabby had become quite lazy since his trip to the vet. Is that what Tallstar meant by the cutter?

“We will not be able to offer you such easy food and warmth,” Tallstar continued. “Leaf-bare in the forest is harsh. The Clan will demand your loyalty and hard-work. There will be many trials to face. Feeding the Clan is no easy task, and you will be expected to give your life to protect your clan if necessary. However, you will be trained in the ways of the warrior. You will learn what it is to be a true, free cat. And the clan will always be with you, even when you are alone.”

Tallstar seemed to be offering him the life his dreams had often graced him with. Freedom, strength; the life of a wild cat. Rusty found himself unable to answer as his mind warred with itself.

Deadfoot interrupted the conversation as Rusty thought in silence, “I suppose he should see Barkface before his eventful day catches up with him.” The black tom mewed. Rusty glanced at him, puzzled, and the cat elaborated, “Barkface is our medicine cat. He’ll treat your wounds.”

Abruptly, Rusty felt his flagging energy and pain return. Tigerclaw and Longtail’s claws had certainly left their marks. Tallstar blinked sympathetically at him as Rusty leaned his weight to the left, his other shoulder complaining as it tried to support his weight.

“Can I think about your offer?” Rusty asked, not certain he was in the right mind to make his decision now.

Tallstar nodded. “You will stay the night with us, and at sunhigh tomorrow I shall have a patrol prepared to guide you home. I shall expect your answer then.”

Rusty nodded and dipped his head as he had seen Mudclaw do. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Deadfoot sighed, nudging Rusty to his paws. “Barkface will not be pleased that I brought you here instead of straight to him.”

Tallstar purred in amusement. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Maybe,” the black tom mewed doubtfully and turned to lead the orange kittypet across the clearing.

* * *

Tucked away in a quiet clearing, four cats with stardust glittering in their fur lay around a pool of still water. Trees ringed the clearing; cutting it off from the outside world. The grass was cut short near the water, but was tall near the trees. The water in the pool reflected the night sky above it.

“Well, that was unexpected,” an amused purr finally broke the silence. The one to speak was a large, muscular, sleek she-cat with thick black fur and green eyes.

The fiery ginger-and-white tom across from her shook his broad head with a snort. “That’s an understatement.” He muttered and dabbed a white paw at the water. It merely rippled and he narrowed his amber eyes agitatedly.

“Stop it, Thunderstar.” A striped silver-grey tom with bright green eyes chided. Then he turned his attention to the black she-cat who had spoken first. “However, he’s right. I had expected him to wind up in ThunderClan or ShadowClan. Even RiverClan seemed more likely than WindClan.”

The last cat in the clearing, a wiry brown she-cat with narrow stripes and yellow eyes, flicked her tail uncertainly. “He could still decide to go back.”

“He won’t.” Thunderstar countered firmly. His gaze was fixed on the pool in front of him.

The brown she-cat blinked in surprise. “What do you see?”

Thunderstar shook his head. “Nothing. Just that he won’t leave the forest.”

The black she-cat stood to near the pool once more and crouched by its edge curiously. The others watched her in silence as she focused intently on the reflective surface.

“Shadowstar?” The silver tom prompted.

“He’ll stay,” Shadowstar tipped her head towards Thunderstar in agreement. Then she purred in amusement. “Tallstar will have his answer at dawn.” She lifted her head to meet the brown she-cat’s gaze. “You seem to have convinced him, Windstar. Well done.”

Windstar ducked her head in embarrassment. “Well… we didn’t want Tigerclaw to kill him, did we?”

Thunderstar sat back with a defeated sigh. “Looks like we’re out of luck, Riverstar.”

The silver tom dipped his sleek head. “I’m afraid so. All those arguments for nothing.”

“Debates,” Shadowstar corrected absently. “Windstar, what do you see?”

Said she-cat twitched in surprise. “Me?”

“It’s your clan, isn’t it?” Riverstar meowed. “You’ll be able to see more than we will.”

Windstar approached the pool hesitantly and muttered, “Too bad I can’t pray to StarClan for good news anymore.” The other three murrowed in amusement at her words and then fell silent as she peered into the pool.

“What is it?” Thunderstar asked as she stiffened in shock.

The brown she-cat stepped back and shook her head. “He has a long road ahead of him. Much longer than if he’d joined any other clan.” She sat with a sigh. “And many, many choices to make. Difficult choices.”

Shadowstar narrowed her eyes at the other she-cat speculatively. “I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

Riverstar flicked his tail from where he was staring at the pool. “He does enjoy his life,” the ancient leader commented.

From his place at the edge of the pool, Thunderstar twitched his whiskers in amusement. “That’s certainly an interesting way for things to play out.”

Windstar smiled in satisfaction and stepped away from the pool. Riverstar followed her steps with narrowed eyes.

“We’re not supposed to interfere,” he warned.

The brown she-cat flicked her tail in response and turned to look the first RiverClan leader evenly in the eyes. “Had he wound up in any other clan, there are several things that would not have been his responsibility. Now, he will shape the future of clan cats for generations to come. I may not be able to directly interfere,” Windstar conceded with a tilt of her head, “but I refuse to let him walk this path alone.”

“He’ll hardly be alone.” Shadowstar answered mildly.

Thunderstar leaned over the pool once more with a heavy sigh. “Perhaps, but the living were never meant to carry StarClan’s burdens. He may not be aware of it, but Rust-” he paused and then sat back with a faint smile. “He is a cat who walks the line between the clans. _All_ the clans.”

Shadowstar and Riverstar nodded reluctantly. “Very well,” the ShadowClan leader mewed, “I understand.”

Windstar purred in amusement. “Just think of me as a very old nanny.” She mewed as she vanished from the clearing.

Riverstar stared after her unblinkingly. “Will she walk at his side alone?”

“No,” Thunderstar replied after a moment. The ancient leader rose to his paws. “Perhaps fate has a plan for us all.”

“This will be a long road to walk,” Shadowstar heaved as she, too, stood. “But perhaps it is time for StarClan to awaken once again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to stay true to the book as I wrote this chapter. The conversation between Smudge and Rusty is word for word, at least in the things they say. I also used Bluestar’s speech to Rusty as a guide for Tallstar’s. Hopefully it all feels natural. If you’re curious, Rusty is a tabby Somali in this story.  
> Also, here’s the clan list!  
> LEADER Tallstar – black-and-white tom with a very long tail and amber eyes  
> DEPUTY Deadfoot – black tom with a twisted paw  
> MEDICINE CAT Barkface – short-tailed brown tom  
> WARRIORS Mudclaw – mottled dark brown tom   
>  Apprentice, Webpaw  
>  Tornear – tabby tom  
>  Apprentice, Runningpaw  
>  Onewhisker – young brown tabby tom  
>  Apprentice, Whitepaw  
>  Ashfoot – gray she-cat  
>  Cloudrunner – lithe pale grey tom with long legs and a wiry tail  
>  Brindleleaf – light brown she-cat with streaks of dark brown and black  
>  Foxfur – reddish-brown tom  
>  Apprentice, Pebblepaw  
>  Thistletooth – grey tom with a spiky pelt  
>  Nettlebrook – pale brown she-cat with green eyes  
>  Longleap – tortoiseshell tom with long legs  
>  Dustfur – dusty brown tom  
>  Apprentice, Eaglepaw  
>  Lilyclaw – light grey she-cat with clear blue eyes  
>  Copperpatch - pale brown tom with a dark patch of brown on his back  
>  Dawnstone – pale yellow she-cat  
> TUNNELERS Stonepelt – small, elderly light grey tom  
>  Littlestep – small dark brown she-cat  
> APPRENTICES Webpaw – dark gray tabby tom  
>  Runningpaw – light gray tabby she-cat  
>  Whitepaw – small white she-cat   
>  Pebblepaw – marbled dark-brown she-cat with blue-green eyes  
>  Eaglepaw – white tom with brown patches and yellow eyes  
>  Redpaw – brown tom with red ears  
> QUEENS Morningflower – tortoiseshell queen  
>  Sweetfeather – elderly short-furred brown queen  
>  Fernsky – dusty queen with white patches   
>  Kits: Tawnykit, Heavykit  
> ELDERS Reedfeather – light brown tabby tom  
>  Hawkheart – stone-grey with dark brown flecks and yellow eyes  
>  Whiteberry – very small white tom  
>  Dawnstripe – pale gold tabby she-cat with pale stripes  
> OTHERS Rusty – handsome ginger tom with green eyes  
>  Smudge – plump black and white tom  
> *Heatherstar stopped tunneling, but the two had already completed their training

**Author's Note:**

> This story will have relatively slow updates. I will be aiming for once a month; on the 20th of every month. Sometimes it’ll take a bit longer, sometimes the updates will come faster.  
> Prologues are short. Next chapter out in an hour. Bye!


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